


Welcome to the New Age

by AFey



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: Miranda’s mood is taken out on Andy...in unexpected ways.





	Welcome to the New Age

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a line in the song, Radioactive, by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> Thanks heaps to Storm for the summary. My Miranda-like impatience always gets in the way when I attempt to write that part. 
> 
> Also thanks to someone who shall remain nameless since I didn’t ask for permission. I hope she’ll recognise her unnamed self.

‘Damn her to hell!’

The curse reverberates in Andy’s head as she sits at her desk late on a Friday night. Three months as the First Assistant and yet, here she is, waiting around for the _Book_. It’s completely ridiculous since Lauren has proven her competence for the past three weeks and until today, Miranda almost seemed satisfied with both of them. Unfortunately for Andy, her boss’s final words of the day lay waste to that delusion.  

“ _And Andrea, tonight, you will bring me the Book,” a parting shot, before Miranda stalked towards the elevator. Andy glared at her retreating back, and for once, paid absolutely no attention to the delectable ass that usually drove her to distraction._

_“Have I done something wrong?” Lauren asked once Miranda was well out of earshot. Andy recognised the fear and her stomach churned in sympathy._

_“If that was the case, you’d be in tears and looking for another job.” With a shrug, Andy continued, “You know, Miranda. Why be predictable when you can torture and confuse your minions.”_

_Lauren gave her a weak smile and they both returned to work, the sound of fingers dancing across keyboards distinctly louder on one side of the room._

Now it’s ten o’clock and Andy wonders if her current situation is reparation for some careless sin. After fourteen months at _Runway,_ Andy’s well aware that Miranda is the Queen of revenge, preferring her dishes served at glacial temperatures. Still, it seems ludicrous that Miranda would wait this long to punish Andy for disagreeing with her in Paris.

Thirty minutes later, the _Book_ is dropped on her desk, startling her out of a pleasant reverie in which Miranda begs for forgiveness. By the time Andy collects her thoughts, and utters a thank you, she’s alone in the office.

Andy reaches for the _Book_ and by sheer will alone, manages not to dump it straight into the bin. Knowing the fate that awaits it, she suspects such a move would be the kinder option. She grabs her phone, relieved that the day is almost done. Slinging an oversized Marc Jacobs bag over her shoulder, she sends a brief text to Roy. With any luck, the trip to the townhouse will be quick and she’ll be in bed before midnight.

As Andy enters the townhouse she notices that except for the foyer, the rest of the ground floor is cloaked in darkness. Upstairs is illuminated though and she imagines by this hour Miranda’s in a complete snit.  

“Andrea.”

A shake of her head, and Andy braces herself for whatever punishment Miranda has in store for her. With no dry cleaning to wrestle into the cupboard, she really has no excuse not to head directly upstairs.

“I’m in the study. Leave the Book.”

‘So now the Book isn’t important,’ she thinks. ‘Then why the hell have I been bored senseless the last three hours waiting for it!’

She plods up the stairs, the usual end of week exhaustion settling heavy in her limbs. At the top, she pauses and pulls off her shoes. They might be expensive, but the blood-red Jimmy Choos are pure torture by this hour of the day.

“By all means, take your time Andrea. We both know I’m often lauded for my patience.”

“For God’s sake,” Andy mutters, a flash of anger propelling her along the hallway.  

She reaches the study, surprised to find the door closed. Not bothering to knock, she fights the temptation to fling it open in frustration. Which is just as well given the sight that greets her on the other side.

Miranda, resplendent in a cobalt blue silk robe, stands beside a spread of champagne, strawberries and chocolate. Their favourite classical music plays unobtrusively and the room itself is bathed in candlelight. A sheepish look greets her, one that’s out of place on a face more used to expressing scathing glares or well-concealed mirth.

“I wanted time to surprise you,” Miranda explains. “I didn’t expect you’d have to wait so long.”

Andy crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” adds Miranda, holding out an envelope. “Maybe this will make amends.”

She walks across the room, her frustration fading. Despite Miranda’s over-the-top antics, Andy really can’t fault her intentions. A romantic night alone is rare and she doesn’t want to waste any more time.

“What is it?” Andy asks as she drops her shoes on the floor. Ignoring Miranda’s eye roll, she reaches for the envelope.

“Just open it,” Miranda says, the slight smile on her face a clear indication that she is very pleased with herself.

Andy does just that, and then carefully plucks out the piece of paper inside. Once the purpose of the letter dawns on her, she feels her eyes widen in surprise. Freed from the confines of Miranda’s psyche, the words seem to take on a life of their own.

Hard-working. Capable. Forward-thinking. Impressive. Asset.

“It’s all true.”

“You want me to go?” Andy asks, startled by the flash of disappointment she feels. Of course, she wants to progress further in her career, but the reality of leaving _Runway_  is something she's not thought about for months.   

Miranda reaches out and grasps Andy’s arm. “I want you to live your dreams, Andrea. And we both know those dreams don’t involve fetching me coffee and listening to monologues about the history of cerulean clothing.”

“We both know that monologue was complete bullshit.”

”Well,” Miranda huffs, “I couldn’t let your disdain go unchecked.”

“Yes, it was a completely reasonable response to my naiveté,” Andy teases.

“Precisely,” says Miranda, pulling Andy towards her until their bodies are separated by mere inches. “Now, stop looking so smug and kiss me.”

“Sure thing boss,” Andy says, before leaning in and brushing her lips lightly across Miranda’s. Once. Twice.

Pulling away, she takes hold of Miranda’s hand and tugs her towards the couch. When they’re both sitting, Andy lets out a satisfied sigh and gently places the letter on the coffee table.

“You know,” she says, plucking a strawberry from a delicate china bowl. “I did find myself entertaining some rather interesting...ideas as I waited for _three_ hours.”

“Oh,” Miranda says, a sly note of interest in her voice. “Did you just. Care to enlighten me?”

“Hmmm, perhaps,” Andy replies. “They mainly involved you on your knees begging for forgiveness.”

A quiet chuckle escapes Miranda’s perfect lips as she reaches across and steals the neglected strawberry.

“Sounds like pure fantasy to me,” Miranda says as she takes a small bite and then places the rest on an empty plate. Swallowing, she rises for the couch and sinks to her knees in front of Andy. “You know I never beg.”

“Is that so?” Andy queries, as a warm hand starts to trail its way up her right leg.

“I never beg for forgiveness,” Miranda clarifies. “Begging for release, however, is an entirely acceptable activity.”

“And being on your knees?”

“Only for you, Andrea. Only for you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Boring notes on writing for those who are interested.
> 
> This story was intended to be about Andy being very annoyed with Miranda and calling her out for her bad behaviour (not depicted here). Instead the story morphed into this short one shot. Possibly because any story I write from Andy’s POV tends to veer in unexpected directions ....and also because I stopped being annoyed with someone about halfway through the writing process :)


End file.
